


The Trouble with Bargains

by darksmistress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Robin Hood, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Robin Hood!Harry, Sheriff of Nottingham!Snape, Snarry-A-Thon 2014, Snarry-A-Thon Challenge, probably incorrect period vocab, tight tights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksmistress/pseuds/darksmistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry needs a favor from the Sheriff, but neither end up expecting this turn of events.</p><p>_________</p><p><b>Anonymous Prompt:</b> Harry Potter as Robin Hood, and Severus Snape as the Sheriff of Nottingham</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble with Bargains

**Author's Note:**

> These notes are taken from my original posting on Snarry-A-Thon (under username Yuuram4eva2):
> 
> Hi prompter! As soon as I saw your prompt, I had to participate. And then Uni and RL tag-teamed me and left me to die in an alley so this did not come out in any way like I’d originally imagined it. I also want to apologize if this was nothing like you were looking for (I didn’t actually get to make this much more than PWP, and barely referenced the theme of the fest…Q-Q) and also for any parts that may seem rushed. I hope you can one day forgive me, and at least enjoy the badly-written smut.
> 
> Added Notes:
> 
> Alright! So, this fic encapsulates a lot of firsts for me, including First Smut, First HP, First H/S, and First AO3 Post. So, forgive me if you find anything lacking (and please leave constructive comments so I can improve for next time)!

Severus stepped into his rooms after what felt like one of the longest and more trying days he had faced in a while. He was more than ready to relax and enjoy his final moments of peace before the chaos that would undoubtedly unleash itself on the morrow.

So finding Nottinghamshire’s foremost outlaw pacing before his fire was certainly not what he needed right now.

The younger male’s head whipped up as Severus firmly shut and latched the door, fixing him with a rather desperately determined stare. It had been almost a decade since he’d last seen those green eyes focused on him as if he could provide a solution, instead of disdaining him for being part of the problem, and the nostalgia had his thoughts faltering as painful memories began to stir from their slumber. Unwilling to show how the other’s presence bothered him, Severus turned to remove and hang up his cloak, taking the moment to compose himself before whirling back around with crossed arms and neutral expression.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Harry Potter.” He let an eyebrow rise, knowing how it always irked the younger male who’d never mastered the action. “To what do I owe the… _pleasure_.” Severus let the faintest sneer coat his last words, to ensure the imbecile would notice the sarcasm; the last thing he needed was Potter thinking he was actually welcome in his chambers.

Like the descendant of Gryffindor that he was, Potter blatantly ignored the hint, boldly approached him, and bluntly declared the reason he’d dared infiltrate the Sheriff’s rooms and disturb his peace. “I want you to release the Weasley family from your dungeons.”

Snape could have groaned and rolled his eyes had he been a lesser man who’s every action did not have to be meticulously thought out and policed. Honestly, he had rather expected some sort of outcry from the brat about him arresting the red-headed brood, but with his lord breathing down his neck, Severus had had very little choice but to throw them in irons. Couldn’t Potter have gone and attempted some sort of misguided jail-break instead of bothering him directly?

At least Severus now knew it was hardly a matter he need concern himself with, and could relax his stance enough to head over to his side board and pour himself a few fingers of Ogden’s Finest. “Then you have come to post their bail?” He asked after a deep, satisfying sip, half-curious as to whether Potter would expect him to simply release nine people _out of the goodness of his heart_.

Sure enough, the boy’s gaze broke contact as it shifted off to the left and a sheepish flush pinked his tanned face. “I…I don’t have the money, but,” There was a fierce steadiness in those green eyes when they looked back. “I figure my bounty should be enough to cover the cost.” Snape watched him blankly for several moments, in utter disbelief that the—the little _cretin_ would offer up his life and freedom so readily.

Severus could have strangled someone. Preferably Potter, but that would have negated all the efforts he’d made in the last few years to keep the imbecile alive. He allowed his eyes to narrow dangerously instead of dropping his head into his hands and lamenting on the sufferance of dunderheads. His tone dipped into the lower registers, edged with the sheer frustrated anger he felt but that Potter would likely not understand let alone pick up on. “Did you? Pray, tell me just what feeble excuse for a brain let you come to the conclusion that I would accept such an inconceivable bargain? What is it you expect will keep me from capturing you this very moment and merely tossing you in to keep your friends company?” For added measure, he let his hand fall to the sheathed blade at his hip and watched in satisfaction as Potter’s eyes widened momentarily in wariness. While Severus was no match against the brat when it came to archery, they both knew that the older was the better when it came to the art of the sword, and could draw quicker than the boy could notch his beloved holly bow.

Of course, the arrogant sod could hardly let that deter him for long. Clenching his fists, Potter raised his chin in determination. “You’ve been unable to capture me for several years now.” He actually had the audacity to offer up his wrists, fingers uncurling into loose fists. “You will not get another chance, Snape, so listen well. This is my bargain to you: let the Weasleys go free, and I will willingly surrender myself to you, and your _Lord_.” The boy was not as composed as he wished to be as he could not prevent the contemptuous sneer that snuck in to coat the last word in angered disgust.

Deep in his mind, where he occasionally allowed himself to freely express his true reactions, Severus groaned, and flailed, and smashed things. Only one more night and this decade-long farce would have finally been done with, but now Potter was going to mulishly stand in the middle of his rooms and make demands, far too stubborn to leave without the release of his little accomplices. If it wouldn’t have unduly tipped Riddle off, Severus was tempted to simply release them and be done with the matter, but his sense of caution prevented him from any action which may endanger tomorrow’s successful overture. He needed Potter gone and out of his hair until things could come to fruition; however, Severus could not just blatantly tell the brat that the Weasleys would all be released by the following evening and that there was nothing to fret over.

Suddenly, an idea on how to get the whelp running from his rooms like his backside was on fire formed in his mind and Severus could have slumped with relief. Potter was a determined sort, after all, and once he had something in that stubborn, pig-headed brain of his nothing save extreme measures was likely to put him off course.

Affecting an uninterested air, Severus dismissively waved his free hand and turned away, taking a leisurely sip from his drink as he began to peruse his book shelves as though he sought something of more interest. “I refuse.”

Back turned and expression mostly shielded from the other’s view, the Sheriff allowed himself a small smirk when he saw out of the corner of his eye Potter’s demeanor visibly flag and falter in response, mouth falling open in an unattractive gape.

The other managed to rally fairly quickly, though, advancing several steps closer and reaching out as if to grab Severus’ shoulder. Foiled by a neat little sidestep, the boy stumbled and sent him a rather petulant glare as he straightened up. Severus merely raised a brow as if to say, ‘Did you actually expect me to _let_ you manhandle my person?’

Crossing his arms obstinately, Potter seemed strained in keeping his calm. “Care to tell me _why_ you would pass this up after spending the last few years running after me?”

This time, Severus really did roll his eyes, voice taking on a patronizing tone as he was forced to elaborate what should have been rather logical. “Because, Potter, your capture would hardly make up for the grief my lord will give me were I to release several prisoners without adequate contribution into his coffers.” Severus judged this as the moment to move his plan along further, and set down his glass. Abruptly turning towards the boy, he let his gait become predatory and his smirk sharp as he advanced into the younger male’s space, lowering his tone suggestively. “So unless you’re about to offer me a more…” Here he forced his eyes to rove down the scrawny frame before him in a leer so obvious that even an idiot like Potter could understand what he was implying, “ _personal_ remuneration, I suggest you go home and think up some other form of payment.” Severus pulled away and reclaimed his glass, leaving Potter to turn and flee as he once more turned to his books. The boy was too arrogant and proud—just like his late father—to even think of lowering himself in such a way, so Severus was confident that the whelp would turn tail to ruminate on some other option.

So of course the brat had to prove him wrong.

“Fine.” There was a repressed tremor in that voice, but the agreement still had Severus tensing in surprise. A slow pivot revealed the brat’s face to be considerably paler, but wearing the same determined look as when he’d offered himself up for capture moments earlier. Hardly daring to believe that the whelp could be that self-sacrificing, Severus decided to test Potter’s resolve; anticipating the boy would cave sooner or later, once faced with a bit of pressure.

Keeping his expression relatively bland, the dark-robed male made his way over to one of the tall, wing-back chairs near the fire. Reclining casually against its sturdy arm, he emptied the remains of his glass and set it aside before gesturing magnanimously to an open spot on the floor a few feet away.

“Strip.”

Potter jolted in surprise, but hesitated only a moment before walking reluctantly over to the center of the room. Fixing Severus with a particularly acidic glare, he nevertheless began to remove the various weapons adorning his person, including a dagger from each boot, his quiver, and bow. Potter took a sickeningly sentimental moment to caress the carvings in the pale holly wood before setting it in a pile off to the side with his other possessions and ridiculous, feathered cap. (Honestly, Severus had no idea why the boy wore the thing—it hardly helped cover the untameable mass of his curls.)

From his vantage point a few feet away, Severus could easily make out the trembling of the teenager’s hands as he began fumbling with his belt, but remained quiet, knowing the stubborn fool would only insist he was fine and push himself into continuing if Severus were to call a halt. No, Potter had to be the one to finally realize his own limitations and make the decision to leave without obvious outside manipulation. It was only a question as to how long that would take.

As clothing continued to be removed, Severus mentally distanced himself from the sight before him without allowing his disinterest to show. The young Potter before him was well known for his resemblance to his father, and Severus held no desire in seeing what was likely a facsimile of James Potter’s body. A shudder of disgust threatened to wrack his frame at just the thought.

The older man came back to himself when he noticed the brat shifting uneasily from side to side, nervously pushing the battered pair of spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. Severus’ mind then took that unfortunate moment to be its usual observational self, running eyes down Potter’s nude form, taking note of the dark hair smattered between two flat, dusky nipples, and the modest-sized genitalia hung between the bo—well. Severus could hardly refer to him as a ‘boy’ when evidence to the contrary was literally right in front of him.

Mind still working to try and facilitate this new perspective he now had of –of Potter, he apparently remained in silence for longer than the younger male’s liking. “Wh-what now?” The b—man asked, trying to cover up the embarrassment and apprehension on his face by affecting a firmer stance. Severus, though, could still make out the minute twitches his fingers made as they restrained from covering up, and the slight hunch of the other’s shoulders.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the poor attempt at bravado, before holding out his hand in a beckoning gesture. Man or not, now would come the real test of the brat’s fortitude. “Come here.” Once again, Potter hesitated before slowly shuffling closer, looking at Severus’ outstretched hand as if it could grow claws at any moment. Pausing just beyond the reach of Severus’ hand, the whelp visibly gathered his courage before taking a large step inward, placing him only half a foot away. Green eyes stared defiantly into his own as if in challenge of the Sheriff’s next move.

Gathering his own resolve—mentally, rather than in plain sight for all to see like the imbecile before him—Severus moved his hand to possessively grip the back of the whelp’s neck. Taking just a calculated half-step closer so he was no longer supporting himself with the chair, the older male left only an inch between their two bodies, uncomfortably close within each other's personal space. Threading his fingers into and finding an easy grip in the tangled, dark hair, he tilted Potter’s head back with a sharp tug. With his other hand, he ran his fingers down from Potter’s chin to waist, lingering on sensitive spots like his Adam’s apple and collarbone, and brushing against the outer rim of a nipple. Meanwhile, his eyes kept steady contact with green, waiting for the barest flinch or cringe to mar the other’s expression.

The closest he received was hitched breath and burgeoning flush, and Severus’ eyes narrowed in frustration. Running his hand back up the b— _man_ ’s flank, his fingers began to toy and tease the malleable flesh of a nipple until it had hardened and peaked under his touch. Severus could feel Potter trembling and so, judging the archer to be close to breaking, he sent his hand trailing around and down to intimately cup and squeeze a pert buttock cheek, thumb rubbing just at the tip of the crack.  
Potter finally reacted, but definitively not in the disgusted way that Severus had anticipated. The man jolted in surprise, yes, and two tanned, calloused hands came up to grip at Severus’ shoulders, but they did not push him away, and the sound the other made was hardly one of disgust. The half-erect phallus thrust into his thigh only served to corroborate the fact that Severus had horribly, grossly, and significantly miscalculated.

Potter seemed just as shocked by his reaction as Severus felt. Wide green eyes focused on his own, looking vulnerable, pleading, and _aroused_.

“You like me touching you.”

He had hardly planned to speak that thought aloud, let alone let his surprise show faintly in his tone, but Severus was much too shell-shocked by what was happening that his brain-to-mouth filter seemed to be malfunctioning. Yes, he’d been in situations before where expectations had turned on their heads and simultaneously flown out the window, and he’d been able to keep his outward image impeccable, but _this_ … Potter was supposed to be predictable, set into a constrained stereotype of what it meant to be the male heir of the noble House Gryffindor. What Severus was doing should have shaken the lad to his fundamental core, jarred against his moral code, and offended the arrogant pride he held so dear.

That it didn’t… That Potter would act so contrary to what Severus had justly taken as truth and fact…

The other man just became a lot more interesting.

Severus watched as Potter’s flush deepened impossibly, eyes hooding and gaze shifting away, teeth worrying the flesh of his bottom lip as the younger male obviously struggled for some sort of believable response. The urge to keep pushing, to fluster the man further, grew in Severus, fueled by his desire to _know_ this new personality before him.

How far would Potter let him go? How deep did the man’s self-sacrificial tendencies lie? Would he give himself up like this for anyone who came along? These and many other questions burned to the fore of Severus’ inquisitive mind and would not be denied.

Acting more on instinct than any predetermined plan, he used the grip he held to pull Potter closer, leaning in so that his lips caressed the outer rim of the shorter man’s ear as he spoke in a low, rumbling tone. “Do I arouse you, _Harry_?” The shuddering of the body in his arms and minute thrust against his hip was worth the irritating tickle of wild hair against his nose. Wondering just how far this responsiveness could go, Snape playfully nipped at the lobe by his mouth before briefly soothing over the area with a lap of tongue. Potter’s breath hitched and his grip tightened on Severus’ arms, tugging momentarily before relaxing, as if unsure whether he wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

Severus leaned back just enough to not knock noses, sliding his fingers out of Potter’s hair and around his neck to tilt his chin up, forcing the man to meet Severus’ keen black eyes. Red, teeth-bruised lips were what first drew the attention of his gaze, before he was able to tug his focus away to fully examine the expression on Potter’s face. The green eyes staring back at him through the smudged glass of his lenses were wary and defensive, but were also thinly glazed with desire, and Severus could still detect no disgust nor rejection in Potter’s body language.

The opportunity presenting itself to him was one too tempting to pass up, even with their shared antagonistic history. It had been too long since Severus had been able to make time for intercourse—let alone with a willing, unpaid partner—for him to refuse when Potter seemed rather interested, himself. Severus knew he was hardly a handsome enough man for lovers to be chomping at the bit to sleep with him. Besides, not only did this have the potential of being rather pleasurable, but it would keep the meddlesome brat distracted for a while. Severus would soon be long gone and need not face any lasting repercussions, anyway.

Letting go and stepping away, he gave Potter one last chance to change his mind and flee as he removed his sword and began working on his belt. When the other man continued to stand, unmoving and seemingly either taken aback or intrigued by Severus’ de-robing, the older male felt further prompting was in order.

This time, however, he wouldn’t really mind if the brat took his words as a challenge to stay. “Get on the bed, Harry, or leave; do not just stand there gaping like a fool.” Potter jerked, sending Severus an affronted glare as his words penetrated that thick skull of his. Turning his back on the room in general, the Sheriff continued to strip off his tunic and undershirt, laying them across the back of the nearby chair. He heard a huff from behind him, then the shuffling of feet on rug, before the tell-tale creak his bedframe always gave when introduced to additional weight. Lips twitching up in a small smirk of victory, he unfastened the ties of his trousers and pulled off his boots and socks.

Unable to resist any longer, he pivoted and headed towards the large four-poster off to the side of the room, eyes landing on Potter’s awkward-looking form and smirk growing at the sight. Stepping up to where the younger man had perched himself on the edge of the mattress, Severus positioned himself between Potter’s knees, causing the archer to have to lean back and spread his legs, wariness in his eyes but red still tinging his cheeks.

When Potter once more showed little inclination to move from his spot, Severus lowered his mouth again to the man's other ear. "Unless you plan on offering up fellatio as part of your repertoire of skills, I advise you to shift further back."

Severus was glad to see Potter still held to some standards when he hastily crawled into the middle of the mattress instead of trying to perform some fumbling attempt at oral pleasure. A comfortable bed had been one of the few indulgences which Severus allowed himself, and he could see the moment when Potter took in the supple support and silk sheets. His body relaxed, sprawled as it was across the duvet; his lethargic expression marred only by the caution still within his hooded green eyes.

By this point, Severus' own arousal had begun to show itself; however as he looked over the barely post-pubescent body offered to him, he found himself more turned on by the anticipation of what he planned to do with it and the reactions he hoped to pull from it rather than the image itself. With gawky limbs, unmanageable hair, and poor eyesight, Potter still looked like a Potter, after all.

Removing the last shred of his own clothing, Severus climbed up onto the bed, erection bobbing between his legs as his knees dug into the mattress on either side of Potter’s feet. Potter's eyes drew downward, and widened in the slightest show of apprehension. Severus continued to smirk as he closed the distance between them once more and began running his hands up the wiry, hairy legs beside his own. Cupping a pair of knobby knees, he pulled them up and outward so that Potter’s own arousal was put on clear display. The other man gave a small yelp at the motion, but aside from a momentary attempt at closing his legs, showed no other sign of objection. His hands did fist the sheets at his sides, though, and that bottom lip was once more subjected to the abuse of his teeth.

All in all, the younger man seemed to be bracing himself, posture quite tense under Severus’ hands and erection not quite at full-mast. The brat probably thought him crude enough to take his own pleasure without any return to his partner, so Severus set about proving that misconception wrong. While he may not be the nicest person, he was not inconsiderate to those who joined him in bed.

Leaning down, he latched his mouth onto the nipple he’d toyed with before, sucking it and pulling at it gently with his teeth before letting go and beginning on the other. He kept up his ministrations until both were satisfyingly red and peaked, and Potter’s breath caught and huffed in small gasps. He moved his mouth down to the slight protuberances of Potter’s ribs, nipping and sucking red marks into the taut skin there as he released the other man’s left knee. Severus let his hand wander up Potter’s inner thigh to leave fleeting, teasing touches just shy of his erection, causing the body beneath his to convulse as hips sought out denied friction.

All these reactions were arousing in their own small way, but the response Severus really wanted to see would have to be much more vocal and active than these restrained little motions of interest. With little warning, he wrapped his hand around Potter’s flushed member and began pumping it, randomly thumbing the slit and varying his grip and speed to see which Potter liked the best. Green eyes clenched shut as a guarded grunt forced its way through the air, hips thrusting jerkily in an attempt at keeping up with the changing pace. Severus could feel the member in his hand swelling and hardening quickly, precum already beginning to leak from the slit and ease his movements. Dipping his head lower, the older male tongued at the trembling stomach before him, focusing particular attention on the rim of Potter’s naval. A moan broke from pursed lips before quickly cutting off, and Severus looked up to see Potter pressing a fist harshly to his mouth in an attempt to stem the flow of any involuntary sounds. Eyes narrowing, Severus bent down farther so that his mouth hovered just over the tip of Potter’s red erection, the caress of his hot breath causing it to twitch repeatedly.

“Harry,” he called, wanting those green eyes focused on him, on what he was doing; Severus would give Potter no opportunity to imagine that someone else was touching him. Resting his free hand on Potter’s bony hip, he rubbed small circles into the skin, having found the action to often be reassuring to its recipient.

Potter eventually removed the hand from his face so he could push himself up onto his elbow in response to Severus’ call, likely unable to see past his heaving chest. Potter’s spectacles had fogged slightly from his panting breaths, but the older man had little difficulty in making out the blown-pupils behind the glass. Confident that he held the younger man’s full attention, he kept green eyes in a locked stare as he slowly lowered his mouth down Potter’s heated length until his nose was buried in damp, dark curls.

Hips jolted up towards him as Potter’s back bowed, but it wasn’t until Severus swirled his tongue and _sucked_ did the other’s voice finally let loose with a hoarse cry. A hand fumbled down to grasp at his long hair, tugging weakly in what may have been an attempt to pull him off; Snape ignored it to instead start bobbing his head, working his tongue back and forth across the throbbing vein on the underside.

“S-Snape! Oh God!” Hips continued to try and thrust the erection further down his throat, but the Sheriff had a good handle on the brat and was able to remain in control of the depth and speed. Releasing Potter’s other leg—which promptly dropped and wrapped tightly around his shoulders—Severus brought his left hand down to massage the heavy bollocks near his chin. Barely a few seconds later they drew up out of his grasp and Potter’s fingers dug harshly into his scalp as the boy ejaculated down his throat with a whimpering moan. Unprepared for such a quick finish, Severus choked on the first few jets of cum hitting the back of his throat, but was able to quickly recover enough to smoothly swallow the rest with only a small trickle escaping down his chin.

He had to wait another moment or two for the languor of post-orgasm to loosen Potter’s tight grip, but when it did Severus pulled back and let the flaccid penis fall from his mouth, wiping off the excess on his chin with the back of his hand.

He sat back on his haunches to observe the limp state of the previously tense body lying before him, and couldn’t help but wonder if Perfect Potter simply suffered from pre-mature ejaculation or if the man was actually—surprisingly—virginal. With the dazed and somewhat awe-struck look Potter wore, Severus was led to believe in the latter, which destroyed yet another delusion he had held about Potter and his mass of admirers. Although he was hardly a sentimental or romantic person, Severus could acknowledge that it probably took Potter a lot more courage than he’d initially given credit for to allow his so-called nemesis to deflower him. Gryffindors, after all, were notorious for their belief in love and faithfulness, and tended to rant at length about ‘making love’ instead of ‘fucking.’

Tucking the information away to the back of his mind, Severus leant over to the small table at his bedside and removed the vial of oil he kept in its drawer. With Potter being a virgin, a lot more preparation would be required to get the man ready so as not to injury him unduly; doing it while he was relaxed from orgasm would only make things easier.

Severus coated the fingers of one hand in lubricant before he noticed the other man’s shut eyes and slow breaths. Leaning over Potter’s prone form, he brushed the sweat-stuck hair off the scarred forehead with his clean hand, somehow able to keep his eyes from lingering too long on the lightening-bolt shape. “Harry,” He said softly, watching as dark lashes fluttered before revealing lethargic green eyes. “You can’t fall asleep, yet.” He rubbed an oiled finger around the other man’s entrance and smirked when those eyes blinked open wide in surprise. Thrusting his still-straining erection into Potter’s leg in reminder, he pushed one finger slowly past the tight sphincter, and brought his face close to Potter’s own. “You still have to make me come.”

Sitting back up, Severus began moving his finger in and out, going deeper with every thrust and crooking against the tight, inner walls. He watched as Potter’s face scrunched in discomfort, hips wiggling uncomfortably against the mattress and hands twisting in the sheets. Feeling Potter as loose as one finger could make him, Severus pressed in a second alongside, relieved Potter wasn’t unduly tense. A quick glance up at the other man’s face showed his expression scrunched up in discomfort and jaw clenched shut. Still craving to hear the unchecked noises spout from Potter’s throat, he began to thrust his fingers in deeply in the hopes of finding the man’s prostate gland. Green eyes flying open and a startled gasp were indication enough, and Severus smirked as he began fucking his fingers in quicker, not always aiming for the man’s prostate but enjoying Potter’s jolts whenever he did.

“Can you feel it, Harry? Your insides are sucking my fingers in so deeply.” Potter’s member began showing interest in the proceedings and started to quickly swell up once more; even the other man’s hips started thrusting back onto Severus’ fingers, and his own erection twitched at the sight. “You love having something shoved up your arse, don’t you Harry?” He slipped in a third finger and the younger man _keened_ , one hand actually reaching down to grasp Severus’ wrist to try and push it in faster and harder.

Just to see what Potter would do, Severus ceased all movement, three fingers buried deep within the younger male. Potter’s hips kept thrusting and his hand kept trying to get Severus’ to move, but the older man would have none of it and kept his hand stationary. With a low whine, green eyes peaked open to stare at him in confusion. “Snape? Wh-why’ve you stopped?”

Raising a brow in incredulity, Severus ignored Potter’s question, instead leaning down in close to keep eye contact with the younger male. “I have three fingers knuckle-deep up your arse, Harry. Surely you can call me by my first name.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d made the offer, but a part of him wanted to know if those lips that had only ever called out his surname in derision and astonishment would use a different tone with his given name. Potter’s blush deepened, and his voice was hesitant when he amended his inquiry. “S—Sever-us?” The little imp actually twitched his hips up in another attempt at gaining friction.

Severus still yearned to hear some sort of verbal admission of Potter’s interest, which likely facilitated what he spoke next. “Tell me what you want, Harry.” Green eyes widened ridiculously before looking away, flush deepening even further. Severus kept silent and waited, knowing his patience could far outlast the younger male’s. Potter’s throat worked, and his mouth opened a few times before he was finally able to voice his words, though it took even longer for him to form a coherent sentence. “I…I want…I don’t—”Turning back to look at him, Potter’s eyes were pleading and frustrated and still heavy with lust. “Make me…feel…good? Please.”

Needing little other encouragement, Severus pulled out his digits—much to Harry’s displeasure—to coat his erection in its own layer of oil. He pushed the other man’s legs open wide before tugging bony hips up his bent knees to rest on his lap. Without hesitating, he positioned himself at the loosened entrance and began to drive in, eyes narrowing at the tight heat stretching itself around his cock. Harry’s back arched, mouth open on a silent, choking scream as he was steadily breached by a much more invasive force than a few fingers. The body under Severus’ hands was trembling, and he reached a hand up to wrap around Harry’s penis which—instead of flagging at the penetration—actually began leaking once more. Seeing such a positive reaction, Severus barely left the lad any time to adjust to his girth before he was pulling and snapping back in. He set up a quick pace, pounding Harry into the mattress with the force of his thrusts and practically bending the man in half. After a hit to what must have been his prostate, Harry tightened up in his second orgasm, and Severus released the jerking prick in his hand. He turned the twitching male onto his side, hooked his leg over his shoulder, and barely paused in his rhythm as he sought out his own release. One of Harry’s arms reached up, snagging around his shoulders to pull him down closer, changing the angle of thrusts and bringing out a high, lengthy keen from the man below him. With a start, Severus realized the imp was actually still half-erect. Feeling his own orgasm fast approaching as Harry’s inner walls continued to convulse around him, he reached down to furiously pump Harry’s erection, causing the smaller man to drag their mouths together in a messy, painful first clash of teeth and tongues.

Severus felt his balls drawing up and pounded Harry’s arse with sporadic thrusts before tensing up and coming deep within the pulsing channel encasing his cock. Carefully collapsing off to Harry’s side, he watched in orgasm-fogged lust as a hand wrapped around his, and urgently brought the archer to a dry, third orgasm with a painfully pleasured wail. The body next to his convulsed with petering after-shocks for several moments before finally laying still, the slightly erratic breathing the only movement to be seen. Pushing up on his elbows, Severus realized that Harry had passed out.

\---

Harry woke up groggy, but after what felt like the best sleep he’d had in years. Snuggling deeper into the cocoon of warmth that had been created, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the luxury of such a soft bed and silky sheets against his naked skin. A few moments later he was jolting up, wondering just where the hell he was. A twinge of pain shot up from his hips with the movement and the sleep-fog finally cleared his mind as the events of last night came back to him.

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands, curling in on himself as the shame rolled through him. God, he’d literally _begged_ evil, greasy Snape to touch him, let the man _fuck_ him! How was he ever supposed to look the Sheriff in the eye again without turning as red as a tomato? Jerking upright once more, he snapped his eyes around, frantically looking to see where the other man was. Without his glasses, though, he couldn’t see much. Frowning, he began patting around in search of the bedside table where they had likely ended up.

Indeed finding them on the smooth wooden surface, Harry slipped them onto his nose with practiced ease before taking a better look around. Daylight streamed in through the large balcony window on the opposite side of the room, brightening the dim corners that had looked so menacing the night before. Relief flooded him when his search turned up no snarky bat awaiting the chance to mock and humiliate him. Unwittingly, a memory of Se—Snape’s tender expression had him feeling guilty for jumping to conclusions about the older man’s behaviour. Last night had certainly shown Harry that he didn’t know the Sheriff as well as he’d thought; not only had he never expected that kind of proposal from the dour man, but for him to have been fairly considerate during the act as well? While there was a noticeable pain in his arse, Harry had spoken to enough of the villagers to have heard the horrors and injuries that could be incurred during sex from an uncaring partner.

What confused him, though was _why?_ Harry had always thought S—Snape loathed him; the other was certainly eloquent and imaginative enough with the various insults and curses he’d used on Harry’s person over the years. Not to mention the fact that Harry was considered the biggest antagonist to Riddle, Snape’s lord and master.

Shaking his head of the swarming thoughts and questions, Harry set about finding his clothes. If it was daylight already, he had to make sure Snape had actually kept to his side of the bargain and let the Weasleys go. Besides, he hardly wanted to be found by some unsuspecting chambermaid starkers in the Sheriff’s private quarters.

Looking around once more with a different purpose in mind, he found his clothes actually weren’t too far; they’d all been neatly folded and piled onto a chair that looked to have been pulled up and turned to face the bed only a foot or so away. Harry carefully eased himself off of the heavenly comfortable mattress, mindful of the soreness about his legs and hips. Standing was a bit of a challenge at first, but he managed it after only two attempts and relaxed in relief that the pain actually wasn’t too bad. He froze suddenly, though, at the odd sensation of release below. Just a bit scared as to what he would find, he bent over—which only seemed to exacerbate the situation—and gingerly felt around his anus. His fingers came away sticky, and he realized with sudden clarity just what was…leaking out. The heat that rushed to his face would have put a drunkard to shame, and all Harry could do was stand there for several moments trying to calm down and deftly ignore the twinge of arousal that had been incited just by thinking about what and who had put him in this condition in the first place.

After a few deep breaths and cleaning himself off as best as he could (using the Sheriff’s nice sheets in petty vengeance) he reached out for his clothes. In their folds he found a short, curt note on a scrap of parchment which read only: _W. will be out by sunset_.

No signature, or any other sort of polite platitude that Harry could have expected after such an intimate night. All the fairly light-hearted embarrassment and confusion he’d been feeling up until then blew away at the horrible realization that it had all meant nothing. Shame enveloped him, making him feel used and worth less than the cheapest harlot. He didn’t know why these feelings had come about; he’d had a good idea about what he was offering up last night, and that it wasn’t supposed to have meant anything, but—for the first time in almost ten years, Sn—Severus had shown hints of the man Harry had used to admire. The role model who later became nothing but a traitorous wretch, betraying everything to kiss the feet of the villain who had had Harry’s parents and Severus’ best friend killed.

He had thought that man nothing but a wisp of childish fancy. But now, upon further deliberation, Harry couldn’t figure out why the evil git he’d always thought the Sheriff to be would have left him to peacefully snooze the day away. After Harry had passed out, the man would have had an easy time of throwing him in irons and presenting him before his dark lord.

Instead—if the note was to be trusted—Severus had actually kept his word, proving the man carried some shred of honor within himself. With this revelation, Harry was able to push aside most of the negative emotions about the past in order to focus on the present and future. He would confront Severus at a later time, preferably once he’d seen the Weasleys safe and at home.

First, though, he need to safely escape the Sheriff’s large and well-defended manor. Sneaking in under the cover of night is one thing, but trying to leave in broad daylight was another.

After one or two close calls, Harry waited until he reached the road out of town and was headed towards the Forbidden Forest to breathe a sigh of relief and relax the tight grip he’d held on his bow. Removing the cowl of the well-made green cloak that he’d pilfered from the Sheriff’s wardrobe—he was still a vigilante who stole from the more fortunate, after all—Harry ran a quick hand through his hood-messy hair before replacing his much-loved cap.

He’d just glanced up when a spot of color and movement over the crest of one of the hills leading to Nottingham castle caught his eye. Unable to get a better view from where he stood, Harry quickly ran over to and shimmied up a nearby tree, climbing its limbs with easy skill. There had been rumours of Riddle attempting to amass foreign armies to come to his aid, and if this was one of them, Harry had to make sure the people had enough warning.

Finally finding a break in the leaves through which he could see, he scanned the area near where he thought he’d seen movement. That same flash of red caught his eye again, but was closer and easier to make out this time. Harry almost fell out of the tree in his shocked disbelief when he realized that the colors the flags were flying were those of their long-absent king. Joy and hope surged through him as he realized that King Albus had finally returned from helping their allies abroad, and that Riddle would finally get what was coming to him.

\---

The reign of terror had finally ended; Riddle had been slain in his mad, last-ditch attempt at murdering the rightful ruler as Albus and his men paraded back into the kingdom. King Albus was once more installed on the throne, and the future looked promising and hopeful for the first time in years.

The continued fanfare and merry-making could even be heard way out in the royal stables where Severus stood adjusting the saddlebags on his trusty, dark mare. He’d just taken up the reins to lead her out of the enclosure when an arrow whizzed by his ear and embedded itself in the post a scant inch or two before him, badly startling his horse. His mind made the logical leap right as he tried to calm the stupid beast down from its fright.

“You’ll miss all the festivities if you leave now, you know.” The insolent whelp spoke from behind him, annoyingly aloof from the struggles Severus faced in relaxing a usually docile horse because a certain idiot could not learn to play with his toys _outside_.

Glancing over his shoulder with a glare revealed Harry just lowering his bow, a rather uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. Realizing this confrontation would be unavoidable, despite his wishes to the contrary, Severus herded the mare back into her stall with several treats before he turned around to face the stubborn whelp, arms crossed in display of his agitation.

“Parties aren’t exactly my cup of tea, Harry.” He replied shortly, unamused by the brat’s interference and wanting to leave the castle gates before the sky grew too dark for safe travel. “What pressing concern could have pulled you away from your friends and admirers to such an isolated place as this?” Both his expression and tone, he knew, hardly bothered to hide his growing exhaustion, but all he desired was a conclusion to this madness. Preferably one which allowed him to leave and retire to a nice, quiet cottage somewhere. After all he’d had to put up with over the years, Severus felt he rather deserved it—even if Harry Potter did not agree.

“Albus told me everything.”

Severus stiffened, but managed to keep his face relatively blank. The old fool had certainly always been meddlesome, but to have betrayed Severus’ long-kept secrets now, of all times, and to Harry, of all people, must have meant Albus' senses had been alarmingly frayed by the long journey. Turning back to his horse, Severus silently declared the conversation over; he wanted none of the pity or derision Potter would give him, nor to pursue the subject any further.

Potter, yet again unwilling to take a hint, kept speaking. “I want to know why, Severus.”

Snorting, the older man once more tried to lead his horse out of her stall, murmuring low words when she began shifting agitatedly. “I have about as much insight into Albus’ mind as you do; I don’t see why you would think I would know the motivations behind his every action.”

A growl of frustration, then quick footsteps behind him were enough to alert him of Harry’s advance, but he saw little point in defending himself when the brat would only grow angrier and more stubborn. A hand grabbed his arm in a tight grip, turning him around, and Severus stared at it for the barest moment, remembering a similar scene that he’d avoided the night before.

“Is that it, then?” Harry pushed him backwards, causing the edge of the stall door to dig uncomfortably into his back. Anger had the whelp stepping closer, green eyes boring into his own with steadfast ferocity. “You’re just going to leave?”

If he hadn’t been so irritated, Severus may have applauded the brat’s ability to keep his tone low and even; instead, he sneered and pushed back, sending the boy stumbling backwards a disappointing two steps. “That has always been the plan, Potter. Now, do move aside.”

Harry’s voice had gone quiet by the time he next spoke, returning to the somber seriousness that Severus had first observed in his expression. “And if I want you to stay?”

Severus stared at him in incredulity, unable to comprehend why on Earth the other man would feel any compunction whatsoever to encourage the one who had antagonized and cold-heartedly deflowered him to remain. No sudden revelation of secrets on Albus’ part should have brought about this change in behaviour, leaving Severus rather perplexed as to Harry’s train of thought. Severus felt much like he had the previous night when Harry had stood and defied all expectations; the man was doing much the same thing here and now, and Severus was once again finding himself intrigued.

He allowed a small smirk to twist his lips as he stepped in closer to the younger male, wondering just how far he could push things this time. “Is that so. And…just what would I serve to gain from doing you this favor?” Harry’s cheeks began to light up with a truly spectacular flush, but it was the confident way the man did not turn away this time which captured and held Severus’ attention.

After the barest moment of deliberation, Harry responded with a playful grin of his own. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of…agreement.”

FIN

\--Bonus--

“I admit that I’ve been wondering for a while now why it is you and your friend always wear such…tight trousers.” Harry blinked up at him, before grinning in a way that clearly showed he now knew Severus had been looking at and contemplating his lower body.

“All for your benefit, of course.” He replied mischievously with a horrible attempt at a saucy wink. Severus merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow and picked up his pace; if the brat didn’t want to share, then so be it. Severus had other methods of finding out what he wanted to know. Harry, of course, huffed exaggeratedly and trotted back up to Severus’ side.

“Well, you see, Little Ron and Maid ‘Mione have sort of been flirting for _years _now, and—“__

“Long story short, Potter.” The other man sent him a rather petulant frown before rolling his eyes.

“Fine. It’s been agreed not to let her near the laundry again.”


End file.
